Vale of Arryn
by Astronauts
Summary: Born to the Warden of the East, Harald Arryn remembers a life lived in another world and another time. Using the knowledge gained from his life as a wizard, young Harry works to better his kingdom and the lives of the people living within the Vale of Arryn.
1. Chapter 1 - Born of Falcons

A new Harry Potter - Game of Thrones Crossover.

 **Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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Gazing down upon one of the many paved courtyards of the mountainous keep, Jon Arryn watched his sons play knights and dragons. Only one of the children was his by blood of course, though he had raised the other two for such a long time that they might as well be his own. It had surprised him and his vassals when he had married for a second time. When his first wife passed without baring an heir he feared his bloodline would die with him.

However, into his life came the passionate and free Rowena. Lovely, lovely Rowena. Strong, stubborn and with a wanderlust greater than any, she had walked into his home and heart and stayed there firmly rooted. She had only been his for three short years, but they had been the best of his admittedly long life.

Even more miraculous than the beautiful young woman falling in love with an old man like him, was the gift she bore him. Their son, Harald. He was born a healthy boy he recalled, squealing long and loud the day he was born, as if to let all the Vale hear the birth of the Heir of House Arryn.

Harry, as he came to be preferred, had only been with his mother close to two years before she had been taken from them. A fever during the winter years was a sure death sentence in the Vale, even with the expert help of a Maester. Rowena passed, and left him alone to raise his little falcon. Luckily it didn't remain so for long, his old friends Steffon and Rickard sent their sons to foster with him in the Vale, as the only other Paramount they truly trusted.

Eddard was a good boy, though he was easily led astray by the more boisterous Robert. Jon had feared Harry wouldn't react well to the change, but the boy had a maturity about him even then that surprised him constantly. Harry took to them well, treating them like favoured older brothers and toddled behind them everywhere they went.

It wasn't until Harry was four years of age however, that he truly started to notice the strange things about his child. Harry was smart. Far too smart. Maester Colemon, a very young and newly minted Maester, had told him stories from the citadel of the Gifted. Children who are born with heightened intelligence and cognitive ability. He considered this a blessing and saw to it that Harry had as much knowledge and mentorship as he could possibly want. Colemon's theory soon proved true, as the more he fed Harry's mind, the more and more the boy seemed to consume. However, it wasn't just smarts that set Harry apart from others in his eyes. The boy had a presence about him. It was if he was simply happy to be alive.

Jon knew it was foolish to think such things, for a child his age shouldn't even be aware of what life and death meant, but that was what he truly felt. His son was joyous to be alive. It was in his eyes and smile when talking to people, the way he greeted each day. The only time he'd ever seen his son melancholy was when his mother died.

"Harry! Ned, Robert! Come here boys!" He called down to them, stopping their game before it could escalate to fighting, as most boyish games tended to.

Robert was first up the stairs, the strongest and oldest of the three. Nearing his nineteenth name day, the boy was tall, muscular and handsome. A true downfall for any maiden much to Jon's chagrin. Already the boy's appetite for women was becoming legend in the Eyrie and Vale. Thick black hair and deep blue eyes, he was every part the Baratheon Lord. Jon only hoped little Lyanna could prove to be the Cassana Estermont to Roberts Steffon Baratheon, else the Kingdoms may flood with Bastards.

As usual, Eddard followed shortly up the stone steps after Robert. Tall for his age too, Eddard was the spitting image of his father with his dark hair and grey eyes. Luckily, the boy seemed to have inherited the legendary Stark honour, for he had heard no tales of bedding maidens or bastards from his subjects.

Last of course was Harry, his son. Still young, not yet six years of age, he had thick brown hair and a square jaw. However, his eyes, Harry had inherited his mother's eyes. A brighter shade of green than Jon had ever heard of. Harry put the fabled emerald eyes of the Lannister's to shame, and made them look like cheap forgeries to be knocked at a market stall.

"What is it Father?" Harry asked him in a child's high voice, panting slightly in exertion.

"I was just about to win" Robert grumbled, nudging Ned with his shoulder. Jon stared at the three until they straightened and held a respectable silence.

"A raven arrived from the capitol. There's to be a grand tournament held at Harrenhal that I thought we'd attend." He grinned as the boys lightened in excitement.

"Yes!" Harry crowed as he jumped onto Roberts back, singing the praises of Knights and Warriors. Equally exuberant, Robert grabbed the boy tightly and swung him around laughing merrily.

"When will we leave Lord Jon?" Ned, ever the respectful one asked.

"On the morrow, I've already had your things packed while you three were busy… slaying each other in battle" he said patronisingly as he smirked at the reddening boys. He walked back into the keep satisfied as he listened to the boy's clamor and shout defensively about the nature of their 'Glorious' battles involving knights and dragons.

"Harrenhal, Rob! Can you imagine? I wish to see if Harren the Dread truly haunts the broken spires, and if you can still feel the heat of dragon fire in its melted stones!" Harry cried out in joy.

Chuckling, Robert put the boy down and made to follow Lord Jon into the keep.

"Aye, you'll do all that and more I imagine. I more look forward to the fighting and the wenches than some old ghost story!" Robert boasted, earning a coy look from Ned.

"My sister wouldn't happen to be one of those wenches, would she?" Ned quipped with a raised brow. Robert reddened and huffed as Harry cackled in the background.

"Oh Lyanna! I will make you the best of Husbands! I hunt like a beast and bed anything that walks!" Harry sung as he raised a hand to his forehead and play fainted, "Oh Robert, you're so manly and strong! Take me now!" he swooned, giggling before taking off down the corridor.

"That's it, come here you brat!" Robert yelled as he charged after the escaping boy.

"That's my sister Harry!" a disturbed Ned cried and followed them.

Out of breath from running and laughing so hard, Harry evaded the older boys successfully and made it to his rooms. Still smiling widely in excitement, he walked to his desk and stared at the large and detailed map of Westeros, quickly locating Harrenhal in the middle of the Riverland's. Some questioned why a boy would need such a detailed map, but Harry truly did need it. It served as a reminder. That this was another world. Another life. If ever he doubted himself, and questioned his reality, he would gaze at the proof, a map filled with continents and landmasses so jarringly different to Earths that there left little doubt.

Nearly six years he had been in Westeros living as Harald Arryn. Six years since he woke up, wet and disorientated, crying out into the warm embrace of what he now knew to of been his mother. He was shocked of course in the beginning, who wouldn't have been. One moment he was having a vague and half-forgotten conversation with his Headmaster, the next he was surrounded by starlight on all sides as his consciousness faded to inky black.

Of what he could remember, this was supposedly his next great adventure. He had mortally crippled Voldemort by willingly walking to his death, severing the last of Voldemorts Horcruxes from the world. Dumbledore assured him that Voldemort was weak enough now that his friends and loved ones could defeat him on their own. It was time now for Harry to move forward.

He'd agreed, thinking he'd go to the same place as his parents and loved ones. Which explained why he was so confused. It took him a little while, but he finally concluded that it was a rebirth like Parvati Patil always talked about in Divination class. That his actions in his previous life set him up for his next one. Though he had no idea why he still possessed the memories of Harry Potter. They were muted, and he was forgetting more and more the longer he lived as Harald Arryn, which scared him quite a bit. Harry feared one day he will have forgotten being Harry Potter completely, and that was not something he desired.

In terms of rebirth however, the rest Harry couldn't complain about. He was born to a very affluent family, essentially Royalty, and had a very loving father and mother. He was distraught to once again lose a maternal parent when Rowena died, having come to love her fiercely during the two years she guided him unknowingly through his emotions. She was the only mother he knew, as Lily died when he was around the same age the first time, however he possessed none of his self-awareness that time. The other great boon was something that pleased Harry beyond measure.

He had magic.

It was muted and changed, but it was still there under his skin, liquid and sparking all at the same time. When he had first realised he still possessed his magic, he had tried calling out a spell with his untrained tongue. He failed, miserably. Giving up vocalised magic as a lost cause, he had tried non-vocal, wandless magic. He knew very little about it, other than it often displays in children his age as accidental magic. That too failed.

It wasn't until he was four years old and his father started him on lessons that he theorised what had happened. And wasn't that unique, Harry Potter, theorising magical theory. His magic, had stained his soul completely… somehow. In this new life, he possessed magic, but it had changed much like the world he was now a part of. People around him claimed he was a genius, and he had to agree. His mind felt so clear and sharp. He could memorise knowledge so easily now and work out problems quicker than ever. If he was honest, his first thought upon realising his increased intelligence was that it was little wonder Hermione was so arrogant in academics when this was what she had to work with.

But it wasn't just his mind that was enhanced. His body was always bursting with energy and as fit as it could be at his young age. Whilst he had not started combat training yet due to his age, father promised he would on his seventh birthday, the master-at-arms, a Norvosi Blademaster named Rand remarked that he had first grade eye hand coordination and reaction speed. He would apparently be a very renowned sword fighter, should he wish.

And even that wasn't all! So many little things that he was either blind, ignorant and dismissive to started to make sense to him. When near the falcons in the aviary, he could hear whispers, almost like warbling speech. He assumed it was the wind howling through the cracked walls but now he was sure he had heard the voices of the falcons.

Increased mental proficiency, heightened physical attributes and the ability to hear animals. And that was only what he knew of for sure. Magic had not abandoned him, it had just given itself to him in a different form. A more passive form. He was very glad of this.

Grinning to himself he moved to the far wall of his antechamber where his bags had been left to be taken on the morrow. They were filled with his finest blue and white coats, in the colours of his House, and several books he wished to read along the way.

"Young lord?" a smiling maid called as she entered his rooms. "Your father has asked you to come down to dinner" she finished with a curtsy.

"Wonderful, I'm famished!" he beamed at her and she reciprocated in kind.

Walking into the dining hall he sought out his foster-brothers only to see them flirting with the prettier maids. Sighing and rolling his eyes in an undignified manner, he went to join his father and the other visiting lords at the high table. Tomorrow they would leave for Harrenhal, and all the wonders it holds.


	2. Chapter 2 - Tourney at Harrenhal

The next chapter of Vale of Arryn!

 **Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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Gazing at the rolling pastures of farmland and riverbed, Harry sighed deeply as another rock on the rough road caused the carriage to jolt violently. He had begged his father to let him ride to the river lands with them, but much to his frustration and his stupid foster-brother's amusement, he was forced into the carriage with the other noble children too young to ride. He wouldn't have minded it too terribly, the Valemen procession was large, as just about every Lord and Lady of the Vale would be in attendance, meaning there were more than a few young children to interact with.

But that was his problem. The only two people he kept in regular non-halting contact with aside from his father was Eddard and Robert. And there was a good reason for that. He frankly couldn't handle interacting with children his age. As Harry Potter, he never had a childhood let alone friends his age to spend time with and socialise. And now as Harry Arryn, he was technically as old as Rob and Ned! He knew he was being bratty, and that his cousin Denys didn't deserve to have his ears bled out by hours upon hours of complaining about the injustice of age inequality. But he _was_ a child damnit! He could behave childishly if he so chose!

He'd decided early on that whilst one's mind can be as developed as it wants, nothing over comes the body's hormones and impulses. He may be mature for his age, and secretly possessing memories from another life, but his turning six-year-old body wanted to be out and about, not stuck in a carriage, and he was determined to make sure everyone within his vicinity knew about it, frequently and loudly. Once again sighing as the carriage jolted, he looked forlornly to the head of the procession several hundred metres further up the road.

"Cheer up Harry, we're almost there now" his cousin Denys Arryn said. He looked far to relieved about that fact, almost sinking into his saddle.

Ignoring his older cousin's platitudes, Harry sat up further and looked ahead, as Denys had spoken truthfully, the grand structure of Harrenhal was truly coming into sight.

Gasping in awe, Harry could not tear his eyes from the towering structure that was the dilapidated, yet no less majestic Harrenhal. Many of the towers that shot into the sky like spears were blackened and broken, said to be drowned by the firestorm that was Belarion the Blackdreads flame.

So, large was the castle that the massive nearby lake, a good distance from the structure, barely managed to reflect all of it upon its surface. Even more amazing than the castle to Harry, who lived in the Eyrie, which was quite frankly to him the greatest keep in the world, was the ocean of tents, carriages and other forms of shelter completely covering the vast field close to the keep as far as the eye could see.

If he was to compare it to anything, he would compare it to the Quiditch world cup on earth, though in his opinion this was far more impressive as there was no magic involved and considering each tent couldn't house twenty people like the wizarding tents of earth.

"Have you ever seen so many people before Denys?" Harry breathed as he took in the sight.

"Aye Harry, I've been to Kingslanding where ten hundred thousand people live in squalor on top of one another. The thousands you see before you are nothing compared to that. Though I haven't seen so many Lords and Ladies gathered before, no. And especially not all the seven Paramounts and the Royal family in one place. This tournament will surely be the greatest in memory" Denys stage whispered to the enraptured Lordling.

As the procession came closer and closer to the tournament grounds the sounds that were distant before were now deafening, as men and women and children ran about, drank, sang, laughed and had a merry time.

Harry could see the tents up closer now as they moved into the large encampment. He could see the finest ones had great silken ribbons flying off the entrance ways, dancing in the wind in a rainbow of colour. A top each of the largest tents was a large banner bearing the sigil and house words of the House it belongs to flapping in the wind. The pierced sun of the Martells, the Golden Rose of the Tyrells, the Red trout of the Tully's, the Dire wolf of the Starks, the Stag of the Baratheon's and even the Kraken of the Greyjoy's were the most apparent. Though all tents paled in comparison to the massive gazebo that stood apart in the very centre of the camp. Black and red with fine gold filigree, the banner that stood above the monstrous silk tent was that of a red three-headed dragon upon a field of black.

"House Targaryen" Harry whispered, eyes looking about to maybe see the blood of the Dragon.

As the carriage finally came to a stop in front of a large tent that was dyed a beautiful light blue, Harry almost burst out as he fell to the ground in a tumble.

"That eager to taste the earth little bird?" Robert taunted from atop his dustier.

"Shut up Rob!" Harry grumbled as he stood and dusted himself off.

"Harry, language boy, you know better" Lord Jon chastised from behind him, apparently materialising from thin air.

"Father!" Harry startled, whirling about to face the aging lord.

"The servants will carry your bags into the main room, Robert needs to go join his brothers at the Baratheon encampment, and Ned's already gone to find his siblings." Jon stated, looking ahead to see that indeed the servants had started unloading.

"Well, can I go exploring then?" Harry asked eagerly before sobering and putting on as straight a face as he could. "I promise to be good."

Jon gave him a dubious look but relented none-the-less. "Yes, you may. Though take Rand and the others with you, I want no trouble boy."

"I promise father!" he cried as he hugged the man around the middle before dashing off into the crowd.

"Follow him. Don't let him out of your sight." Jon said very seriously to the guards. "And do not let him anywhere near the king, no matter what you do." Giving them a severe look he moved on to get his household settled.

Setting off, the men soon caught up to their young lord.

"There you are little falcon" Rand Al'thor exclaimed as he grabbed the over excited child by the nape, lifting him up to meet his eye. "You know better than to run off like that."

Chastised Harry gave him a lopsided smile before begging to be let down.

"There's so much to see Master Rand. And the Tourney hasn't even started yet!"

"You have time little falcon, you have time" the chuckling Blademaster assured him.

Harry turned to him, grinned and pulled him further into the festivities.

* * *

As Jon sat at the table in his pavilion, he was not surprised in the least when Rickard Stark entered the tent and joined him, sitting heavily in his seat.

"So, is it true?" Jon asked pensively.

"Aye, the Prince is calling for a secret meeting. It was the whole reason for designing this tourney. He apparently plans to over throw the king." Lord Stark said gravely.

"He did not plan for his father joining us?" Jon joked weakly, searching for humour in the darkness that was the mad king's presence.

"No, I imagine he had hoped his father's paranoia would keep him away. But it seems it came to be the opposite. Aerys sees daggers everywhere he goes, and poison in everything he touches. Rhaegar should have known his father would never allow two Paramounts to meet alone unwatched, let alone all of them." Jon could see the truth in such a statement.

"Will the meeting still go ahead?" he asked.

"No, now that the King is here there will be no secret meeting. Rhaegar has been watched the moment he arrived behind the Royal procession and will most likely continue to be. This tourney has become just that, a great spectacle." Rickard sighed as he reached for some wine.

"Well, at the very least, my Harry was more than excited to come. He was just about bouncing off the ceiling in the carriage all day." The men chuckled.

"Aye, Lyanna was much the same. Though she demanded to ride with her brothers, and woe upon those who deny her anything these days" the Lord gave his friend a rueful grin.

Just then the flaps of the entrance to the main tent opened and a Vale knight walked in giving a sharp bow.

"Lord Arryn, Lord Stark, the Household is in order and the men have set up stations and patrols. The other lords have reported settling well." The dutiful man reported.

"Thank you, Ser Courtnay" Jon replied. The knight bowed again and left just as abruptly.

"Well, we might as well enjoy the tourney after coming all this way. Plans of usurpation or not." Lord Rickard stated as he stood and gripped Jon by the shoulder.

"Aye, let's hope there's no unpleasant surprises" Jon joked.

Chuckling the Lords left the tent together to join the merriment and festivities.

* * *

The days passed in a blur to Harry, who had been trying to fit in as much as humanly possible. Poor Rand and the household guard suffered trying to keep up with his endless energy and curiosity. It was the last day of the tournament and tonight was to be a great ball to honour the victor of the tournament, Prince Rhaegar. To be honest, Harry had been just as shocked as anyone when the Prince had crowned Lyanna Stark as his queen of love and beauty, though more than anything he was upset on behalf of his friend Robert. He knew Robert slept around, well, slept with anything with attractive legs if he was being honest, but he also thought he knew enough of Roberts character to believe that he would stop once wed, never being unfaithful to his wife.

There was just something about the way he reacted to anything to do with Lyanna Stark. The boy-man was infatuated and Harry truly wished they would get their happiness. Robert would be good to Lyanna, Harry knew this. Though in his heart he had to admit he was a little biased in favour of his foster-brother.

Still, the ball had come and everyone was out in their most expensive and luxurious clothing. In his life as Harry Potter he had never cared for clothes, they were just things he wore to keep warm and cover his decency. However here, he had to learn that clothes were just as much a sign of nobility and status as bathing and speaking properly. And as the Heir of the East, he had to be dressed to the nines.

Pulling at his doublet, Harry didn't notice where he was walking until he ran into someone, almost knocking the both over.

"Hey!" an indignant voice cried. It was high pitched and distinctly girly. Oh dear, it was a little girl.

Harry groaned mentally as he prepared for the usual tirade a bratty noble girl can spout when started.

"Watch where you're walking boy." Was the much smoother and dangerous voice of an adult male, as a man, clearly the girls relative, slid forward and made sure the girl was in one piece.

"I'm fine uncle, the stupid boy just wasn't watching where he was walking" she stated imperiously, sticking her nose in the air. Taking a close look at her, she was his age, maybe a little younger. She was pudgy and had blotchy cheeks which stood out against her tanned skin.

"Me? You were the one not watching where you were walking! I am perfectly aware of my surroundings!" he claimed indignantly. He knew it wasn't true, but he wasn't going to be insulted by a little girl.

"Oh, is that so little falcon?" Rand hissed as he snuck up on his charge. "I saw you knock over the girl when you were fussing with your clothes. Be a man of your station and apologise!" the annoyed chauffeur demanded.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Harry turned to the expectant girl and her uncle. Bowing his head slightly he faltered before sucking up his childish pride.

"On behalf of House Arryn of the Vale, I apologise sincerely for not paying attention and knocking you over… little girl." He finished cheekily.

"Little girl! I am a princess!" she yelled shrilly, puffing up in even greater indignation, as her uncle finally let his amusement show and chuckled loudly.

"Enough Arianne, he meant no harm. Come, your aunt is waiting inside." He stated as he led the fuming girl inside.

"Can you believe her Master Rand" Harry huffed as he turned to see the unimpressed face of his mentor.

"Inside little falcon, I'll be telling your father of this" he promised darkly. Chastised, Harry continued into the large hall.

Men and women were dancing in couples to joyful music in the centre of the room as talking adults lined the sides along with tables laden with delicacies from all around the world.

Sneaking up to a table with a particularly tasting looking sticky-fig pie, Harry snatched it and watched the proceedings.

The couples were all beautiful with their swirling colourful dresses and graceful movements. The hall truly looked grand to him. Spying a group consisting of Starks, Harry moved over to them quickly.

"Harry!" Ned called as he spied him, catching the attention of his siblings.

"Hello Ned" he grinned as he looking to the highly-amused group of Starks.

"Harry this is my brother Benjen and my sister Lyanna. I was just telling Lyanna how well you portray her" he smiled evilly.

"Oh yes, 'Take me now' was a particular favourite" the Lady in question said drily before grabbing his cheeks and pinching hard. Harry winced as he looked upon Lyanna Stark. She was a rare beauty. Not in the traditional sense of graceful beauty, but more in a wild natural way. As if she had no need to groom herself for she was perfect the way she was and knew it. Magnetism, is what he decided to label the effect. No wonder Robert was obsessed with her.

Apologising meekly to the girl, he was happily surprised when she laughed it off in good humour. The two carried on for a while before Harry noticed something interesting. Ned was gazing forlornly at a slowly dancing couple.

"Lyanna" Harry whispered, drawing her attention, "Who is that couple over there?" he pointed them out.

"I'm not sure who the woman is, but the man is my eldest brother Brandon" she smiled.

Seeing an opportunity for revenge, when the next song began to end and the couples slowed, harry sauntered up to Ned's side.

"So, who's the maiden?" Harry grinned.

"Ashara of House Dayne of Starfall" Ned replied giving him a cautious look.

"Thanks!" he chirped before walking directly in their direction.

"Harry! Stop!" Ned cried frantically, hoping the brat wouldn't do something terribly embarrassing.

"Lady Dayne?" Harry asked shyly when he reached the two.

"Yes?" the pretty girl smiled down at the Lordling.

Oh dear, she was gorgeous Harry mentally sighed. So very beautiful. Was it any wonder Ned looked at her longingly from across the hall he thought. Then his mind changed track… all the better for sweet revenge!

"You're very pretty my lady." He tried smiling winsomely. The eldest Stark looked on bemusedly as his date laughed and smiled at the cute child.

"Thank you my lord" she replied.

"I wish to tell you a secret" he stage whispered, whilst beckoning her to bend down closer to him.

Amused by the child's antics Lady Dayne did just that.

"Oh? And what is this secret?" she asked in mock whisper.

"This!" He chirped, before leaning forwards quickly and stealing a peck on the lips.

Ashara jerked backwards in surprise as the Lords and Lady's around them gasped and laughed in shock. Ashara herself looked stunned and Brandon Stark just stared at the boy before laughing loudly and escorting his date away.

"Harry!" Eddard Stark called out mortified as he went beet red staring at the cackling future Lord of the Vale.

* * *

The next day an exhausted Harald Arryn stood before his father in the House Arryn tent.

"Not only did you nearly injure a princess of Dorne with your carelessness, but you acted in a deplorable manner to a Lady of a principle house of Dorne. Is there some nefarious plot I should be aware of involving Dorne, Harry?" His unimpressed father demanded as his son stood in front of him fidgeting.

"I don't understand where this behaviour came from, you're perfectly well-mannered at home." His father shook his head tiredly.

"My lord, it is know that boys, especially young ones, act out when over excited. Consider it the actions of an exuberant child." The Master-At-Arms/child-carer Rand suggested.

Jon sighed and looked at his son.

"Fine. But the moment we get to home, you are going to be starting martial training. And your lessons are going to increase in number too!" he stated in warning. "Rand, make sure you give him a thorough session" Jon demanded before leaving to finish coordinating the move.

"Oh, I will my lord." Rand promised darkly as he smiled sinisterly at his charge.

"Mercy?" Harry whimpered.


	3. Chapter 3 - Roberts Rebellion

Here's another chapter! Phew, I'm on a role today! This will be the last chapter for today. Now I've got a bit of content going, I'd be more than happy to answer any reviews or messages in a postnote next chapter. At the risk of sounding needy, please favorite, follow or review if you like the story :)

 **Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

Lord Arryn stared at the letter held in his hands in abject horror. He truly couldn't believe it had come to this. He knew Aerys was mad. The whole of Westeros knew. But to burn alive a Lord Paramount and strangle the Heir of the North, then have the audacity to demand the lives of another Lord Paramount and Heir. He just couldn't believe the words on paper, for they were surely the decisions of a mad man. Did not the advisors surrounding the mad king know these actions would unite the kingdoms in rebellion against the throne? Did they truly not know that they had now doomed themselves completely?

Balling the paper in his tightly clenched fist, Jon cursed vehemently as he stormed through the stone hallways of his keep heading towards the courtyard he had become very familiar with these past two years.

Since returning from that fateful tourney at Harrenhal a year past, he had been hard on his son. He knew this. Harry truly did not understand the repercussions for his actions that night. Whilst to a boy, it was hilarious and fun, but to the scheming vipers of the court, it was an outspoken attack on Dornish nobility by the Heir of the East. In return for the hours he had to spend clearing up the political mess, he subjected his son to hours upon hours of physical training.

Annoyingly enough, the boy of course took to the training just about as well as he does anything, exceedingly well. Blademaster Rand Al'thor claimed the boy must have been born with a sword in his hand for all his finesse. Still, Harry was just a boy, and new talent with a practice blade or not, he feared for the days to come, and what they would mean for his House.

Reaching the overlook facing the paved courtyard, Jon watched without sympathy as Harry was beaten down by Robert. It had surprised him when Robert and Eddard both had returned to the Eyrie after the Tourney. Both were of age and their fostering finished. He supposed it was out of fondness for himself and his son that kept, the now men, here.

"By the gods above you're quick and clever with a blade Harry, but you're ten years too early to try over powering me!" Robert roared as he charged the recuperating boy. Recovering enough to level his sword, Harry angled it as if for a quick draw and went through the movements for _The Moon Rises Over the Lakes_ , striking out against the Baratheon's heavier blade and forcing the sword to sail harmlessly to side. Shifting his weight to favour his right, Harry then moved into _The Falling Leaf_ , hitting hard into the off balanced man's back, sending him to the ground hard.

"A point to Harry! That's three to two in favour of Lord Baratheon" Rand called from the side, where his keen eyes were watching the flaws in his students form.

"Bloody hell Harry, you and that foreigner's strange dances hurt something fierce" Robert grumbled as he stood up and brushed himself off. "Though I'm not really a good opponent with a sword, I've always been fucking useless with the things. Give me a hammer any day" the big man grinned toothily.

"I don't think I'd face your Warhammer even on a good day Rob" Harry smiled tiredly, "I rather like my head attached to my shoulders".

"What about you Eddard, give Harry another dance partner?" Blademaster Rand asked the pensive Northman.

"I have no doubt I'd fair better than Robert, he is as useless as he says with a blade, but I tired myself earlier and would not serve adequately" he humbly declined.

"Bah, ignore his proper speech, he was having a tousle with that fine girl Tammy, you know, the the cookgirl with huge tits. Tired myself earlier my arse" Robert roared with laughter.

Laughing despite himself, Harry looked at Ned in question. The man blushed fiercely and refused to comment.

"Well if no one else wishes to challenge you, we will finish the day with what you know of forms. Come Harry, start your warm downs as we go through them" Rand commanded.

"I am striking at you with a low, slow but heavy strike, how do you counter?" the teacher of blades tested.

Harry looked pensive for a moment before answering slowly.

"I'd counter with a quick _Cutting the Clouds_ aiming from shoulder to waist, striking the blade to stop its force" he answered, though he trailed off in question towards the end.

"You could do that I suppose" Rand grunted, "Assuming you don't mind the possibility of jarring your hands, missing completely, shattering your blade or any other number of reasons why that would be a poor choice." The Blademaster retorted.

"Your correct choice, if there is to be only one, would be _Rain in High Wind_ , as this form uses friction from the connecting blades to slow the force, halting in a deadlock. Whilst this limits your next actions, it succeeds in your original goal yes? Countering the attack." Rand explained as they moved through several of what the Norvosi called Kata's. "Though another acceptable form would have been _Cat Dances On The Wall_ , which would use speed rather than force to counter, much like you used against Lord Baratheon before yes?"

"Yes Master" Harry agreed as he panted in exertion. Sweat was rolling down his forehead and sticking the collar of his loose thread shirt to his neck. He had been at this for hours and even for his impressive memory, the seemingly hundreds of forms used by Blademaster's was difficult to memorise, let alone use flawlessly in battle.

"That's enough for today, you're exhausted little falcon. Go rest and we will continue from here tomorrow" Rand stated as he came out his low stance.

"Boys, come here" Jon called seriously.

Startled by the unexpected voice, and the severity of it, the three nobles quickly met the man they all thought of as father.

"Eddard… I don't know to tell you this son." He paused. "Nor you Robert…" he trailed off. "A letter has arrived from a source of mine and another missive followed shortly after. The first spoke of a kidnapping." Looking at the two he measured his tone. "Lyanna Stark has been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen."

Slowly, like the pressure building in a volcano, Roberts face contorted in fury as he gripped the wooden railing next to them with near shattering force.

Jon looked to Eddard. "That's not the worst son." He continued sadly. "Your brother Brandon in his rage stormed Kingslanding, your father followed him. The two demanded the King hand over Rhaegar to be executed and return Lyanna Stark." He finished slowly. "The King killed them both…"

Eddard choked as if he couldn't breathe and braced himself next to Robert.

"King Aerys demands I kill and deliver the both of you to Kingslanding to have your heads placed on spikes as warning against treason and traitors" Harry's father continued as face darkened in anger. "I will not be doing this. The reign of Aerys the Mad must end. The two of you must return home, and marshal your forces"

Harry could barely follow the conversation it was so unexpected for him. Kidnapping? Execution? War? Why was this happening? He had heard the king was mad, but he didn't foresee this happening.

"Father?" Harry inquired quietly.

"Harry- You son will be staying here. The Vale will be marshaling and moving forces to the Riverland's where we will meet the North. The Stormlander's with Robert will meet us further south." He finished heavily. "You will be the active leader of the Vale Harry as my Heir…"

What? Him? Heir? Harry staggered as if a great weight had settled around his shoulders. He was far too young was he not? He was smart yes, mature when he chose to be. But still, he knew very little about leading or ruling anyone!

He must have conveyed his panic with look alone as his father sent him a reassuring smile.

"Maester Colemon and Lord Nestor Royce will be staying and advising you in my absence. They shall not lead you astray my son." He sighed through his nose and looked over to the now silently weeping Stark. "I'm truly sorry all of this happened boys. All of it. But we must all be strong now. For this will surely test all of us."

* * *

A year had passed, Harry thinks sadly. A year and a half, and still the rebellion rages. If anything, the stoking fire of rage has only been fanned by the actions of the Mad King this past year. Mass executions, burnings, raping's. So much evil and bad, all by the will of one man. The year had not been kind to the Vale. Despite his best efforts, there was a severe lack of man power left after the men all joined his Father. With so little man power, the farms went untended and the hunting ceased almost all together. Food was becoming scarce with only what the women could provide making up their stock. Sadly, living in a patriarchal world, where farmers were fathers and sons, the women of the vale knew very little about food production, other than cooking.

Though he could never resent the womenfolk, for it was truly only due to them that they had survived at all. Blankets and sheets to warm the nights, meals cooked in such a way to bring out the healthiest in an otherwise bland dinner. Truly they were blessed. If nothing else, this past year has truly put things into perspective for Harry. He had thought he had lived through war as Harry Potter, fighting the Dark Lords regime. How foolish he was. They were mere skirmishes compared to the full frontal conflict this war was turning into. Thousands of men fighting in a single place at a single time. The scale of which completely shocked Harry.

Safe in the Vale he had no exposure to the war other than the general depression and famine that was caused by it, and through the recounts he was constantly getting through missive from his father and others. He spent most of his days occupying himself to forget his troubles.

He realised the other day that he hadn't smiled or laughed in a while. Since Robert and Eddard and his Father left he supposed. There wasn't much to be joyous for. He only had the daily troubles of his people to listen too, his books to escape too, and Rand to lean on. Without his sword instructor, he privately thought he may have gone as mad as the king.

Sword forms flew through his mind now as he effortlessly entered a kata and started stretching his muscles. He was no means a master, not even an adept, having only two years of instruction, however Rand promised he was at the ends of the beginner level of competency. He could feel it too, like a threshold he was close to crossing, to making a leap into the next realm of fighting.

"Harry" old Nestor was descending the steps into the courtyard with a tattered missive in his hand and a wide smile on his old crinkled face. "It's from your father".

Confused for he wasn't expecting another missive for some time, he read the first few lines and couldn't believe his eyes.

Rhaegar dead. Kingslanding sacked. Robert King. War Over.

He reread those four lines repeatedly, savoring them each. Laughing joyfully for perhaps the first time in over a year, Harry grabbed Nestor and hugged his middle tightly.

"We must tell everyone the good news!" He shouted, running up the stairs two at a time.

Reaching the great hall where several wives, sisters, mothers and daughters were waiting he started laughing again waving around the letter wildly.

"The war is over!"

The cheer was deafening.

* * *

Laying eyes upon the grand fortress that was his home for the first time in near two years was enough to almost bring him to tears. He had kept up to date with the happenings in his household and kingdom through missive, but to truly be back, to be able to hold his son again and hear his laughter was almost too much to bear for Jon.

"That is the Eyrie?" a snide voice said from his side, "It looks ugly compared to Riverrun".

Jon sighed as he turned to his new wife Lysa Tully, or Arryn now. Truly, in his opinion their marriage was one the greatest sacrifices made during the war. For he would have to put up with her, and the girl would have to put up with him. Truly the gods were cruel.

He ignored the comment, as he had most of the things the woman had said on their journey and tried to bring back his earlier excitement.

Passing the narrow-suspended walkway that made up the entrance to the eyrie, he gazed upon the thick strong natural rock walls, and the rounded blue glass domes of his home. The west landers claim Casterly Rock was the greatest mountain hold, but surely there was nothing grander than the Eyrie in the Vale.

Joy surged through Jon for standing before the gates awaiting him was a tall lad of ten years. His son. His Harry.

"Father!" the boy called out happily and ran towards the slowing carriage. Jon noticed the voice cracked a little. Gods, he was approaching puberty. Two years and he had missed so much.

"Harry" he breathed deeply as his son jumped into his embrace. Holding him made the whole ordeal worthwhile. All his children were safe. Ned was with wife and Lord of the North, Harry was a little older and a little wiser but still completely safe, and Robert was king of all of bleeding westeros!

"Welcome home father." Harry grinned up at him before looking to the carriage. Jon could pick immediately the moment he noticed Lysa for his eyes dimmed and his smile forced. "Welcome Lady Lysa."

"Lady Arryn" she sneered at the boy.

"Yes, that" he agreed before looking back to his father.

"How long will you be staying?" he asked as he followed Jon further into the keep. The Household staff was busy unpacking any luggage and could show Lysa to her rooms, he truly didn't care where she ended up.

"Only for a week Harry" he said sadly. "Roberts rule is in its infancy and, due to the way the city was taken he is surrounded by conniving lions on all sides. He needs me there as his Hand." He sighed. "However, you could come back with Lysa and I and foster in Kingslanding. Nestor can be regent while we're away" he tried to convince him.

Harry looked at him then, oddly torn and far older than he remembered. "The war was hard father. Not just on the soldiers fighting. In the two years, you've been gone I've had to rule a kingdom of starving people. Now that the war is over and we can start rebuilding, you wish for me to hand the reigns over to the steward?" He loved Nestor, truly he did, the man was a god send, but did his father truly expect this of him? To abandon his people for greener pastures?

Jon sighed again. He was doing that far too much lately he reflected. "No Harry, I could not ask that of you. I just thought to give you the option. If you truly wish to stay, in a weeks' time when I return you will remain here as my heir and regent of the Vale."

"Still, that is a weeks' time away, tonight you can rest and tell me stories of the war" his growing son grinned and led him by the arm further into the keep.


	4. Chapter 4 - Farmers and Beasts

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

As the sun started to set behind the mountains of moonsong, bathing the valley below in an eldritch gold, Rand Al'thor Blademaster of Norvos and Teacher to the Heir of the Vale, sought out his Lord with his eyes, looking past the many farmers that were moving about in the mud.

His Lord had changed. He knew this was to be expected, all boys grow up, but to see how his charge had stood upright when the weight of leadership was passed to him was gratifying. Seeing him slowly lift the weight until it was non-existent was awe inspiring. It had been four years since the disastrous rebellion which ended with another boy Rand had known as King.

Whilst the Vale had put its self-back together with the return of the men, he knew it had only come this far by the hand of Lord Harald. Looking passed the muddy farm Rand tried to spy the end of the farms within the Valley but could not. Farmland rife with food spanned the fertile soil as far as his eye could see. He imagined it stretched from one side of the valley to the other.

The long strip of land that stretched from the bottom of the Eyrie all the way to Longbow hall was collectively known as the Valley. As a natural valley between the huge mountains of the vale, it was a sinkhole of water and mud. That was the way it was at least, until his Lord came through talking about flood prevention and water management.

Great wide canals were dug out and paved with stone within the valley, designed to carry water from the top of the Valley near the Eyrie, all the way down and out to sea past longbow hall. It was truly an impressive effort that took two full years to complete, even with the massive force of small folk that were more than pleased to have work. With all this water now redirected, the swampland was more usable, and the extremely fertile mud and soil was used to plant crops of all kinds.

But that was not where the surprises ended. Harry had then gathered all the farmers and farmer's wives in his lands. Then, he gathered everyone who would want to be a farmer. He told them the land in this Valley will be theirs to farm, much to everyone's surprise. They will farm it, they will work, and if a portion of it is given in tax, then the Houses of the Vale will buy the food from the Farmers.

This just wasn't done anywhere the Norvosi knew. Peasants worked the land yes, they even got to sell what they make sometimes. But never have they been given ownership of the land they work, nor promised coin in return for the food they harvest. Many of the Lords were angered and hateful at the prospect of having to pay for food from the peasants. But Harry pointed out that the land the Valley is situated in has always been the property of House Arryn, and therefore his to do with as he pleases. Harry also pointed out that the rates at which the food will be sold will be substantially smaller than ever before and therefore with so many farms being worked, the lords are still making a profit. He asked them to trust him on this. Surprisingly quite a few decided to do so, while the clear majority were waiting for him to fail, and reap the benefits for themselves.

And now, several months after starting, the land was rich with produce and the Vale was going to be fat and well fed for the first time in a long time. All thanks to his Lord.

Spying the Blue Falcon of the House of Arryn off in the distance Rand knew that was where Harry was likely to be. He had taken to having his aide carry it around so that if anyone was searching for him in all this mess they'd just have to come to the banner. Turning his horse around, Rand rode down the bluff that led into the Valley, making sure to stay on the makeshift road between the farms.

Approaching the destination, a group of men came into sight standing around the banner. They seemed to be listening to the shortest one giving instructions avidly as he waved his hands about in gesture.

Rand was close enough now that he could see it wasn't a short man that they were listening to but a very tall boy. His lord had thick brown hair which he usually parted at the front, which at present was caked with mud and leaves. He was also very tall for his age, being only fourteen, reaching the top of Rand's chest, however Rand knew he possessed none of the ungainliness and awkwardness a tall teenager can suffer from, having trained him in the art of the blade for some six years now. Apparently hearing the horse come closer, the men turned to Rand and he saw his Lord give him a small smile before finishing up whatever he was explaining.

"So, if you cycle the crops every harvest, the soil will remain fertile and the land will not erode. And over time even more shall be able to be harvested as the crops become richer and richer." Harry finished excitedly as he gestured to the large two lines he had asked to be made through the field, sectioning them off into four squares.

"I' not sure bout this ma lord" one of the farmers grumbled. "We've always farmed one way and now ya want us to do it differently" a few of the others nodded their head.

"I just want what's best for the Vale. I know this method works, I know it's going to make farming for you all much easier, so please, for me, would you try this just for one season to see if it will work?

"Aye ma lord, I will try it for you" one of the farmers in the back said firmly. At his declaration, more and more agreed to try the new method of farming until the last remaining was the outspoken one from before.

"You'll pay us if it don work?" he asked with a frown.

"Murl this is his land anyway!" one of farmers cried out outraged.

"The Lord gave us these lands, they be ours to farm as we please" he disagreed, "Now he wants us to farm his way. Using his tricks. If he wants me to farm to his liking, he better be ready to pay up when it doesn't work" the farmer Murl spat.

"You insolent cunt, I should cut you for that" one of the Vale guardsmen watching shouted as he went to draw his sword.

"Hold!" Harry cried out, putting himself in front of the farmers, "Hold good man, do not draw your blade." Turning to the farmers he glared at Murl "My guard is right, for your insolence you should be cut, however what you say has merit. I have given these lands to whomever will farm them, and you are free to use whatever method of farming you so choose. I will pay personally for any failure of my crop cycle method for this first cycle, you have my word as Heir of House Arryn." Harry said solemnly.

The farmer clicked his tongue and started to walk off "That's all I asked" he said in a surly voice.

As the group broke up Harry walked over to Rand with a tired smile. "Can you believe that's how just about every meeting with the farmers has gone so far?"

"Aye, I imagine people will resist your new ideas. Tradition is an important thing to the small folk, and they've been doing things their own way for centuries" Rand sighed.

Harry laughed and moved onto the road proper beside his horse. "Yes, that's true. But how did traditions come to be that way in the first place? Someone thought of something wonderful and new, and others decided to use it" he grinned. "This is the same. They will resist, but when the crops come back in a few months laden with produce, just like all the others so far, they will have no choice but to change their traditions." He said surely.

"Aye, if you say so little falcon" Rand said teasingly.

"Yes, I do" Harry quipped as he mounted his own stallion. "Was there anything in particular you wanted me for Master Rand?"

"Aye, Old Nestor said there was something you needed to see back up at the Eyrie. He said it was important" Rand stated evenly.

"The last time he said that, there had a raid by the mountain clans on a noble house." Harry said solemnly, "They're becoming a real issue of late"

"It's all the movement in the Vale recently my Lord." Rand said, "They're used to a sleepy and quiet Vale, not this new and energetic one. All the farming and your exploration into the wild has stirred them up" he reprimanded.

Harry turned to his mentor and frowned. "I know you think my excursions are a waste of time and childish fancy but I promise you they serve a purpose. I need to be alone when I survey the mountains, to have anyone with me would defeat the purpose." He finished.

"As you say little falcon. I just don't like you being alone in the wild where the clanmen can ambush you" Rand said with vehemence.

"Rand, friend. You have personally told me there is no finer blade in this part of the world other than yourself. That last year I had surpassed adept and made way into the world of Blademasters myself. Yes?" Harry asked firmly.

"Aye, you are a master of the blade now. But master or not, one cannot stand before twenty and come out alive. They are simply too much and you too few." He said gravely.

"Then I shall run and hide. I have been exploring the mountains for months now and not once have I seen a clansman in all that time. I'm safe Rand, fear not." Harry said with finality.

"Doesn't mean they haven't seen you" Rand grumbled as he followed his chuckling lord.

* * *

Reaching the Eyrie by sundown, the two entered the keep searching for Nestor.

"Milord!" an old voice called. Turning, the two spied Nestor Royce ambling towards them with Maester Colemon beside him. "Grave news milord, the Black Ears have been reported attacking a caravan coming from the river lands, the men were left mutilated and the women taken. The guard that went out to find them returned claiming they had vanished into the mountains."

"Damn!" Harry cursed, "That is the third this month!" he cried out in frustration.

"Lord, perhaps it is time to dismantle the clans for good, the Vale is fed, and the army is still well stocked and tested from the rebellion, some of them at least." Maester Colemon suggested.

"No, a war inside our kingdom would be costly and ill advised, at least at this time." Harry paced, "Order a battalion to patrol the highroad, they are to offer protection to any travellers they see. Any clansman is to be put down on sight."

"That will upset the soldiers Harry, patrolling a road for however long you will leave them there" Rand disagreed.

"Not if they know it is their own mothers and sisters and wives that could be taken. But men do work better with compensation. A silver stag to each man for every week they patrol. That should persuade them yes?" he asked the Maester.

"Certainly, my lord, it is small enough not to harm the House, but large enough a sum to entice the soldiers" the Maester praised.

"Then it is settled, the soldiers will patrol the roads and towns. We need to be in a stronger position before we attempt to cut out the clansmen. The moment we open retaliation the clans will mount a counterattack in true force. While we out number them severely, we cannot know where they will attack. I will not have my people harmed due to my own unpreparedness." Harry said firmly.

The three men around him bowed, "We're with you my lord" they chorused.

* * *

With the larger number of soldiers patrolling the roads and towns the clansmen had gone back to being quiet, the raids had stopped. As time passed, the crops grew nicely and Harry was expecting the first rotation of crops to grace their tables very soon.

It was quiet nights like this, when most of the household was asleep, that he would sit in his rooms by a fire and reflect on what he had achieved. When he was younger, just after the war, he was still shocked by the depression and the famine. He'd never been truly hungry before then, nor seen people starving. It was a horrible fate and he'd wish it upon no one. That was why he pushed for the farms so vehemently. If he could feed his people he would be truly proud.

He had recalled the method used for centuries on Earth called Crop Cycling, and how it was used efficiently. It surprised him that something similar had not been developed here in Westeros, but he had concluded that very little had changed in the past four thousand years on this continent since his Andal ancestors invaded. For whatever reason, the people of Westeros were stuck in this age, unable to progress beyond the culture and means they already had. It was this conclusion paired with other little instances that fed Harry's obsession. He wanted to progress his Kingdom. He wanted it to move forward into the light, into a new age of wisdom. Schools, Hospitals, Arts and Technology. He remembers all these things from his life as Harry Potter and he dearly wished to bring them to his people.

However, it wouldn't be easy, change never was. Even as the Lord Paramount of the Vale, he could not just force his will upon the lords and the smallfolk. He would have to entice them, enrapture them with his ideals. That was why the farms were important. Not just to feed his people, but to get them used to new ideas and accepting to change.

Staring into the crackling fire Harry let himself daydream of the Vale, decades from now. Farmland grown as far as the eye could see. Roads paved with smooth stone allowing carriages and horses easy travel. Great canals moving clean water all about the Vale. Town and cities built around the concept of Knowledge and Health. Statues and paintings and all sorts of art promoted and created, songs of great deeds and deeds to come. That was his dream. That was the world he wanted to create for his people.

Resting back into his seat, Harry closed his eyes and let himself drift.

* * *

The next day Harry had left as the sun was just rising, having grabbed a horse and rode out of the vale heading north. He understood why Rand and the others thought he was foolish for exploring the mountains alone, even he thought it was rather stupid behaviour, but they didn't know what he knew. They couldn't speak to the animals.

When he had discovered he could hear falcons as a young boy, he had secretly tried growing the ability. He kept a small hound as a pet, and would listen to it chirp happily and demand food and play. Over the years the ability had progressed to the point where he can actively communicate and even command animals! Whilst it was an amazing ability to possess, its significance would take him a while to truly realise. Animals were creatures of the wild, they knew more about the rocks, rivers and tree's than any human being could. And he was able to converse with them. For a couple months now, he had been riding into the mountains disguised as a hunter, and conversed with the local animals about unique geography that the Valemen would never find. Glades, rivers and hidden ponds had been faithfully recorded onto his detailed map as he moved about the northern mountains.

The reason he was so eager to ride out today was due to his last trip a week past. A particularly grumpy burrowing owl had complained vehemently about not being about to dig his burrow any deeper due to the useless yellow shiny rock blocking his way. Yellow shiny rock could mean gold!

He had asked the owl if there were any other such rocks and the little bird swore loudly and viciously about the uselessness of the surrounding area for burrows as it was riddled with the stone.

If his suspicions were correct and there was a deep deposit of gold, then he could have the area mined eventually. He had always wondered why the Westerlands were the only kingdom to have mined their mountains. He knew the north men had attempted it decades ago but only found silver and iron in theirs. But Harry was convinced now that the Vale was riddled with gold deposits, sitting under the earth just waiting to be found. And he had a way to find them.

Hopping off his horse, he tied the animal to a post and moved into the wilderness. Travelling for several minutes he came upon the secret glade.

"Useless, useless, useless! How am I supposed to get a mate without a burrow!" a tiny voice yelled out in frustration.

"Why not simply move to another place?" Harry called out in greeting.

"Ah! The pink thing is back. What do you want pink thing?" the little bird grumbled.

"Well little one, I need to borrow you for something" Harry said quietly. Before the bird could protest, he locked eyes with it and felt his mind slip forward.

Senses bloomed in an array of colours and sounds as he settled into the mind of bird. He could feel the burrowing owls consciousness dormant at the back of his head, like something tangled in his hair. The thing would be fine once he left, assuming he didn't harm the creatures body by accident.

Stretching his wings, he hopped into the air for the first time as an owl. The sensation was amazing. He had always loved flying and the feel of wind beneath his wings was indescribable. However, perhaps due to the nature of the bird, he did not feel the all-encompassing urge to fly like he had expected, instead he felt drawn to the ground and the earth.

Gliding down several metres from where he left his body slumped over, he landed on the earth and started burrowing. Using his talons and beak, he pushed mounds of dirt out of his way as he dug deeper and deeper. The further he went in the harder and more compact the ground became. It was after several metres where dirt gave way to stone that he met the yellow shiny rock. Gleaming like veins of dirty sunlight, the precious metal spread wide and deeper still into the ground. Satisfied having found it, Harry travelled back up the tunnel, moved several metres away and started tunnelling again.

Several times he repeated this process until after several hours he finally returned to his body, letting the owl's consciousness back in.

"Burrows! So many! Ah why am I so tired" the owl complained as it sunk into one of the deeper tunnels probably to sleep.

Taking out a crude pencil made of charcoal and his map, Harry started etching in where the many burrows were on his map, giving him a rough estimate of how spread out the deposit of gold truly was. If his estimates were correct, this was a very large deposit that moved further north into the mountain itself. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much wealth could be taken from such a vein.

Satisfied with the days efforts, he called farewell to the owl and turned to leave. It was at that moment, he knew he had messed up. Several yards in front of him was a beast. Or, at the very least a man wearing the skin of a beast. The man gave out a cruel bark and several others rose from the bushes.

"Talken to berds littal lordlin" the mans guttural tongue mangled the language. "Wargin littal lordlin?" he chuckled as all five men left the tree line of the glade and drew rough stone swords and axes.

"I want no trouble. I was just leaving." He knew he was in trouble. These men knew he was a lord, even dressed as a hunter. That indicated they knew who he was and had been watching him. They mentioned warging, which was the Westerosi equivalent to what he had just accomplished, entering the mind of an animal.

The man barked and they all charged at once. Harry swore as he drew his blade, getting ready to fight for his life for the first time. Harry met their charge with _Apple Blossoms In the Wind_ , striking out quickly in three repetitive jabs forcing them back. Switching into _Lightning of Three Prongs_ , he struck out at the left most clansmen piercing his chest on both sides, puncturing his lungs and internal organs. Mind completely hyper focused Harry didn't even have time to realise he had just killed a human being before another charged him with a high overhead chop. Quickly transitioning into the _Swallow takes Flight_ , Harry lunged with his sword aimed at the man's throat. A spray of hot red blood splashed across his forehead as the man died gurgling around his sword.

The remaining three roared as they charged Harry. Recovering too slowly, he only dodged the rough crafted axe of one of the men and the flimsy stone sword of the other before he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as the last clansmen stabbed him on his left side. Harry shifted into _The Falcon Stoops_ , bringing his head and arms closer to his chest and leaning forward, before lashing out with _Heron Spreads Its Wings_ , as he slashed diagonally across the man stabbing him and the other man to his side's chest, causing them to fall to the ground screaming as his castle-forged-steel sword cut through their leather jerkins like warm butter.

With only the leader of their group standing, Harry allowed his breathing to normalise and his heartbeat to slow as he focused on the last man. Growling in frustration the leader charged once again using quick and powerful slashes of his axe to try and overpower the boy. Swaying side to side using _Cat Crosses the Courtyard_ , Harry relaxed his stance and used minimal movement to dodge the swings until the savage clansmen over extended on a swing exposing his right side. Following the movement of his dodge, Harry turned his left side out and kicked himself closer to the man. In a split second, he reversed his hold on his blade and lashed out with _Kissing The Adder_ , to stab backwards right through the man's heart. Harry felt the weight of the dying man settle on his back and heard the bloody gurgle of the leader as his head rolled off Harry's shoulder and he fell to the ground dead.

Adrenaline flooded Harry's veins as he looked to the five dead bodies littering the glade. Rivers of blood slowly trickled down hill in a nightmarish parody of rain puddles. Feeling bile rise to the back of his throat Harry staggered to a nearby tree and vomited violently onto its roots. He was sick for several moments before he heard footsteps.

"Are you going to eat them?" a sultry voice asked aloud. Startled Harry turned around to find a large mountain cougar staring at the dead men.

"W-what?" he choked out while wiping his mouth.

"The pink ones, are you going to eat them?" the cougar asked again as she bent down to sniff one of the corpses.

"No!" he cried out appalled.

"Suit yourself." She mocked as she bent down and took a large bite into one of the dead men's hands.

Revolted by the loud crunch of broken bones, Harry grabbed his things and quickly fled the glade.

* * *

It was a hard travel back to the Eyrie with his shoulder bleeding as it was. When it was finally insight he had never felt so relieved. He just wished to curl up and cry.

As he neared the entrance to the grand keep voices shouted out, obviously in distress of his injuries.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called out in concern. Looking up, Harry was shocked immensely to see his father of all people rushing to meet him, Rand and Maester Colemon not far behind him.

"Father? What are you doing here?" he asked tiredly.

"I came to see you boy. But I didn't expect to find you half dead" he growled glaring at his tired son.

"I was in a glade in the mountains. Some clanmen tracked me and confronted me. I killed them" he finished near silently.

Rand groaned aloud. "I told you this would happen little falcon" he sighed. "Show me that shoulder" he said as he moved around and grabbed the boy off his horse.

As the men fussed around him, some congratulating him on his first kill, others berating him for going out there at all, Harry looked to his exhausted looking father.

"Why are you really here father?" he asked.

"War, my son. Another War."


End file.
